Interior, a white walled, windowless room. Medical equipment lines the walls. Two men in black suits sit opposite Duncan, all in plastic cushioned chairs. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
AGENT LINKLATER: He’s coming to… Duncan? Duncan, can you hear me?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: Wha… Huh? Where am I?…<\/p>\n\n\n\n
AGENT LINKLATER: It’s normal you feel a bit groggy and disoriented. Have some water. (Agent Piker hands Duncan a tall plastic cup of clear water.) I’m going to fill you in on everything, okay, Duncan? Listen carefully. You won’t remember all this, and it is a lot, but we are going to be as clear as we can about what has happened. Okay? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: Who… where… I… … Okay. (takes a big sip from the cup)<\/p>\n\n\n\n
AGENT LINKLATER: As I say, you will not recall all this. Not only because it’s a lot to take in, but the conditioning process — the drugs in that water, as well — you will black most of this out, later. Okay? But your unconscious will always feel a vague wrongness. But that’s okay, alright? We’ll debrief you again, and in time, you will assimilate much of this consciously. This is all for your own good. It will make sense, I promise. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: [staring expressionless] … I don’t feel so good…<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: Get him the trash bin. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Agent Piker brings over the bin from the corner of the room. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: You feel you need to puke, go ahead. That’s normal. But we are here to help, Duncan. I promise you. We will explain everything. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: …okay…<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: So, first things first. Your name, for all your life, was Telly. You are a writer, among other things. You grew up on the East Coast — Connecticut, the North Shore in Massachusetts, some years in Virginia. You were married the last 8 years, and working as a reporter for the Daily Bee. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: I… What? Telly? You… I’m Duncan. You called me by my name… [Duncan gags as if to vomit]<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: I understand. This is going to be a lot to take in. You see, you have been re-conditioned. Given a new identity. The conditioning process, which has involved drugs, torture, and removal from your prior life entirely, leaves people quite disoriented. You technically have what’s called iatrogenic dissociative identity disorder. Which is a lot of jargon to say, you are still stabilizing in this identity. Of Duncan. [pause a beat] Are you following?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Duncan throws up, a good half pint of pea-soup looking bile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: …<\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: What… what you are saying.. I…<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: Drink the water. It will help. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Duncan looks into the cup. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: Did you say you drugged my water?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: It’s medicine. To calm your nerves. And electrolytes. Smart water. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: But… you said you tortured me…<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: Well, not me personally. But, yeah, we torture some folks. Duncan, I know this is confusing to follow. But I’m trying to lay it all out for you, and I know trust will take time, but–<\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: Trust?!! Are you fuckin– [Duncan pukes again, another half pint, retching in several heaves.]<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: Yes, trust. Of course you can’t trust us, or anything right now. You don’t know where you are, I’m telling you you have been subject to some pretty clear violations of human rights, while also telling you to trust us. I know. Believe me, I understand what you are going through right now. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: … What?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: You were abducted, outside your office building, and taken to a black site. You were held there for over a year, systematically broken down via physical and mental torture. You were given reconstructive surgery — you no longer are recognizable to anyone who knew you as Telly. We — the organization employeed various techniques to recondition you, and install this new identity, with some broad stroke backstory, origins, but mostly, you are still in a transitional stage, Duncan. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: I’m gonna be sick. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: Drink the water, and don’t worry, we can take all the time and as many of these sessions as needed. Again, Duncan, I promise you, this will get better and make sense in time. Be grateful you will not remember most of this in between sessions. In fact, we don’t want you coherent and stable, or to recall all of it, as we want you aligned with the agency. We want you on our side, and to know that we are here, will be here, to guide and help you in this new chapter. This new life. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: This can’t be real. I want to wake up. I– [puke]<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: Well, technically, Duncan, nothing is real. Reality is a sort of hologram, co-created by consciousness. Project Gateway had some profound and fascinating discoveries. But I can assure you, this is not, in the way you mean, a dream. Not a nightmare. This is as real as apple pie in July, this is really happening. But right now, you are taking in the worst parts of it. We do this on purpose. It will get easier. Promise. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: What’s the good part, doc? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: I’m not a doctor. Not your friend, not your enemy, but a guide. You will have many, and trust us, Duncan, we want you to feel better, sooner than later, and regain some stability, some clarity. This is all part of the process, and we are making it as easy as possible. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: So… I’m not me… And you have … What happened to my wife? What do people think happened to me? A year?!! How long have I … been.. missing?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: [nodding] Right. Duncan, this next part, it’s not going to sound plausible. It won’t be the first time you hear this, and one of these days, the lived experience will corroborate these debriefings enough that you will integrate, realize the truth of what I’m about to tell you. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: Lay it on me, Liberace. [pukes]<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: How long you have been MIA is irrelevant. For time is not linear. And, in point of fact, it is presently 9 years *earlier* than when you were abducted. No one is missing you, nor will they for nearly a decade, when your timeline catches up with your former self’s disappearance. By which point, the question will also be moot for other reasons. But temporal dynamics and multiverse theory is beyond the scope of today’s debriefing. Just know that, in the present year, 2016, you are not missed by anyone. Telly is out there living his life, and Duncan has been living his life for months now, but is only known by a handful of people, simply as the recently hired editor. At the Bee. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: [stares into the middle distance, spittle slowly forming strands from his lower lip]<\/p>\n\n\n\n
AGENT PIKER: He’s gonna pop. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: No, he’s just dissociating. It’s making sense intellectually, but no one could take this in. I think he’s remembering. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: I… the newspaper… I live alone in an apartment… I don’t remember Telly… But, my wife…<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: You are experiencing disorientation as parts of two separate lives, both you, co-exist in your memories. This is one reason we must debrief you and then sink memories of the debriefing. It’s a repatterning technique. In time, you will be able to hold these memories without so much discord, and will settle into your new identity with minimal instability and disruption. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: The bad news, Duncan, which you are already starting to intuit, is that you have lost a life. An identity. A marriage. A career, a family, your whole previous life. That is a lot, and honestly, only 8 months into the insertion process, you are doing better than most, but it’s a hard pill to swallow. Oh, speaking of which, Agent Piker…<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Agent Piker approaches Duncan and places a hard purple capsule in his mouth. Duncan says nothing, takes a sip of the water, and swallows. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: Now, Duncan. Your former self, this Telly… Well, see, he was a rather obsessive personality. Which, by the way — some of the good news — you are going to have a much different personality, and, I promise this, you are going to have a lot more fun than you used to. Not so OCD, not so oblivious. You will have adventures, and excitement, exotic women! Trashy women too! But, hang on, in due time. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: As I was saying, Telly, he was wound a bit tight. He had this idea that he could escape his life of perceived drudgery and obscurity by writing and publishing a crime novel, okay? And so, he decided, [chuckles], he decided in order to research this epic thriller, he would solicit the services of a paid contract killer. A hitman, if you like. Telly actually managed to contact and hire a man who kills people for money — an ex-Navy Seal, no less — thinking he could hire him for a fake job, to do the research… You following?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: [gulps] Uh… nope. What? I… he.. what?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: Telly — that’s right, you, in your former lifetime, hired a hitman, pretending to be hiring him for a real job, but with the intention to never follow through with it, so he could learn about contract killers, for his novel. Which, by the way, is not half bad, though really needs a good editor. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
AGENT PIKER: [laughs out loud with a snort.]<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: Aaand… that’s another wrinkle here, Dunc. See, while you are not, actually, a very good editor, seeing as you have no actual experience as such… Also, the thing is… The guy you pretend hired this killer to take out.. Well. That’s you. Duncan. Telly’s editor at the newspaper. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: [motionless, wide eyed, slack jawed] … [vomits profusely.]<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: Take your time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: I don’t want to be here. None of this is real. You aren’t real. This is —<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: You have 9 years until any of this happens, remember. Present day, you are the new editor at the newspaper. You have been doing a better job than the last one, though some of the staff resent you, and a few of the actually talented writers suspect you have no idea what you are doing. That’s okay. It’s normal, for a paper of this caliber, and we will be giving you guidance and training. Meanwhile, for our purposes, we *want* you to become a thorn in Telly’s side. Nothing overt. But, willful incompetence. Incorrectly mark up his columns with nonsensical punctionation and grammar changes. Make him rewrite things to how they were before your last requested rewrite. It is important that he come to despise you. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: I… What? What… purposes? Who… who the fuck… Agency?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: The whole “need to know” mantra can be infuriating. I know, trust me. But I don’t *need* to know, if you… if you catch my drift. Which… well. Duncan, does the URL elusiveconnotations.org mean anything to you?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: URL? What? No. What?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: Nor should it. Duncan, you are doing well. You’re orienting to the story I’m telling you — all 100% true, albeit understandably hard to digest. But a couple months ago, you were stroking out, not just losing your lunch. You are getting there. By Christmas, we anticipate you being completely… outpatient, let’s put it that way. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: Outpatient? You said you are not a doctor…<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: Correct. But we work with doctors, and a life coach you will begin seeing. We also have a primary handler for you, his name is Francis. You will know him as your pot dealer. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: Pot… handler? What? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: In fact, you like the weed, we’ve observed. It’s common for folks in this transitional phase. Helps with the dissociating so you don’t need to sit so much with what is happening, has happened to you. It’s part of that DID I mentioned. Would you… would you like some weed?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: Uh… I would like a lobotomy and a massage with extra baby oil. But, fuck it, yeah, I’d love anything to.. I don’t want to be here. None of this… <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Agent Piker approaches and hands Duncan a glass pipe loaded with some MKULTRA, dank with purple hairs, and a yellow Bic lighter. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: Thank the gods. Thank you, Mr. Spook. Don’t mind if I do…<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Agent Linklater pauses to watch Duncan take a big inhale, sputtering and coughing as he exhales a green-purple cloud, and slumps back into his chair, notably relaxing a couple notches. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: Duncan, can I ask, do you like magic tricks?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: I… uh.. no. Not really. Do you?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: I do. Would you humor me? Maybe a little magic trick would help you relax. You’re taking in a lot, and doing well. Can I show you a trick? It’s an alchemical trick. You familiar with alchemy? Turning lead into gold, and such?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: [high pitched] Sure… [finding his voice] Sure, why not… Show me a magic trick…<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Agent Linklater pulls out a deck of cards, fans them out, shows front and back of the deck. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: I want you not to pick a card with your hands, but with your mind, Duncan. I want you to think of a card, but don’t tell me. Visualize it. Can you do this?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
DUNCAN: Uhhh… I… okay. Ummm… Okay. I got it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: Now, I want you to sit up, put both feet on the floor, and take in a deep breath. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Duncan sits up, begins to inhale, and Agent Piker slams him hard in the back of the head with a billy club. Duncan slumps forwards, unconscious. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: Two of Hearts. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
AGENT PIKER: [laughs] He’s coming along. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
LINKLATER: Yes, he is. I wasn’t sure for a while, but today… I think we have a chance. Beginning to feel we have a chance with this one. As far as CLAMBAKE is concerned, he might be our only hope. But maybe we have a real chance here. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
AGENT PIKER: No.. There is… another.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Aaaand… scene.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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